The Birthing of Bellatrix
by Sable Supernova
Summary: Scenes from the life of Bellatrix Black that made her into the twisted woman she became. Evil isn't born, it's made.


**AN: This was written for the Strong Themes Competition at HPFC. I was given the prompts: curtains, thunderstorm, caesar salad.**

 **Also written for the Huge TV Show Quotes Bucket, for quote 27: "Evil isn't born, it's made." from _Once Upon a Time_.**

 **Warning for: Torture and Violence**

* * *

 **The Birthing of Bellatrix**

I

A young girl lay peacefully in bed as the sun began to break through the dark, heavy curtains. Her chest gently rose and fell with her breaths as her dark, thick curls splayed out over the pillow to her right. To her left, just in front of where her face rested gently, a large house spider crawled over her pillow.

As her eyes began to open, the creature was the first thing she focused on. Suddenly awake, she jumped back into the corner of her bed in disgust, staring at the arachnid. She felt a flash of - something - shoot through her veins and watched as the spider curled up in agony, and then lay still.

Her eyebrows raised as her eyes widened in wonder, taking in what had just happened. Her fear and shock had provoked her innate magical ability for the very first time, and that magic had killed the object of her hatred.

Enthralled by her own power and ability she did not know she was capable of until that moment, the little girl smiled.

* * *

II

It was a few months later when that little girl stood in a sunshine-filled garden with her younger sister, as blonde as she was brunette, as fair as she was dark. They were smiling at each other, having just decided to head down to the swings that hung by the sycamore tree. They walked together peacefully, the younger sister in a floral white summer dress while the older girl wore a navy blue piece with plenty of skirts. Bellatrix felt older and more important in formal attire.

As they approached the swings, a glistening spider's web fell into their line of vision between the two seats, a perfect spiral, with the small predator waiting patiently in its centre.

"Cissy, watch this!" the older girl said, stepping cautiously towards the arachnid.

Since it had first happened, Bellatrix had tried and tried to make her magic work once more, and perseverance had trained it well. Her fear and loathing of spiders had grown intense enough to entice her skill to the surface, and she felt certain she could bring this spider to an untimely end as she had done before.

She stared at it, concentrating on its ugliness, and when nothing happened, the nine year old grew frustrated.

"What are you doing?" Narcissa questioned, eyes shifting between the spider and her sister in confusion.

The older girl let out a groan, as her frustration grew to anger, and only then did she feel the comforting, exciting spark ignite within her. The spider, as the last one did, crumpled in pain before falling to the floor to be lost in the grass.

Bella smiled, happy that she could do something her sister couldn't; happy that she was certain of her magic.

"Was that magic?" Narcissa asked, blue eyes wide in surprise and adoration.

"Yes," Bellatrix grinned. "For some reason, I can only kill spiders at the moment, but it's still magic, right?"

"It might even be Dark Magic," Narcissa commented, the horror of the thought feeding the imagination of her young mind. She grinned at her older sister, proud and affectionate. Bellatrix swelled with the attention.

* * *

III

Bellatrix and Narcissa, ten and six years of age respectively, clambered onto stools in a bright and beautiful kitchen. Copper pans hung from the ceiling over a central, marble unit, which the sisters were currently stood in front of. Their makeshift pedestals wobbled precariously, but they did not heed the danger. Narcissa had been tasked with washing the leaves while Bellatrix had been allowed to cut the cucumber. Their mother had been watching them, but the middle child, Andromeda, had fallen over playing, and so Druella Black had rushed outside to chastise the child for playing dangerously. She was supposed to be a lady-in-training.

It was unusual for the people of a Pureblood Wizarding household to prepare the food; that was usually a task for the House Elves. However, the Black Manor had found itself suddenly without an Elf the night prior. The Ugly Little Creature, as their mother often named it, had dirtied the carpet in the reception room when she'd cleaned the fireplace, and the disrespect of the act simply could not be tolerated. So, Bellatrix had volunteered herself and Narcissa to make lunch the following day, while a replacement was still being sought.

Bellatrix and Narcissa had always been partners in crime, reveling in their similarities and loving their differences. Andromeda had always been left out. While Narcissa and Bellatrix could spend hours talking about the intricacies of wizarding life, Andromeda would rather pour over the latest hardback she found in the depths of the dusty library on the second floor. Narcissa and Bellatrix loved playing with the dollhouse in the nursery, while Andromeda longed for the scraped knees and dirty hands left by tree-climbing and exploring the vast expanse of garden behind the house.

Bellatrix pulled a plate out from the rack above her head, and with a quick glance around, began to take some of each ingredient and prepare a plate. Narcissa watched her curiously, not sure whether her sister's actions would prove to be a trick or a treat.

As a finishing touch, Bellatrix pulled something out of her pocket - a half-dead, covered in mud worm, and leaned over to the sink in front of Narcissa to rinse it. Placing it on her chopping board, she cut it up into small pieces before sprinkling it on the plate. To hide the segments of the creature, she covered the plate in lashings of salad dressing. She admired her handiwork with a smile.

Narcissa began to speak, but she was interrupted by the entrance of their mother and Andromeda, who was wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"Andy! I hope you didn't hurt yourself too badly. We made you a special caesar salad all of your own to make you feel better," Bellatrix smiled. Narcissa's eyes began to widen but she quickly controlled herself, not wanting to give the game away. Druella, their mother, took the plate from Bellatrix and barely a glance at the food.

That had always been the way of their mother, aloof and uptight. She was practical and honourable, often leaving the children to their own devices while they fought for her attention and affection. But more often than not, there was no affection to be had. Bellatrix learned at a young age that this behaviour was a standard of their society: love did not enter the equations.

"Let's take it through to the dining room," she said without a smile, and the pair passed through the room contentedly.

Bellatrix looked at Narcissa with a knowing smile, and the two burst into fit of uncontrollable laughter. Their secret was intoxicating to them, and they thrived on the shared knowledge.

When they entered the dining room themselves a short while later, they were glad to see Andromeda's plate was empty.

* * *

IV

A few years later, the three girls were all happily settled at Hogwarts. Bellatrix was in fifth year, while Andromeda and Narcissa were in third and first years. Bellatrix would not admit it, but she was glad her youngest sister was there beside her. She knew what it meant: that if no one else agreed with things she did, she could count on Narcissa to admire them and encourage her. It meant her wildest fantasies could be realised.

So when she saw Andromeda in the library, talking with a muggleborn Hufflepuff as if nothing was out of place, she allowed herself to see it as an insult. She knew what her mother's opinion would be, and how fierce a punishment she wasn't averse to dishing out. The loyalty the girls' must show towards their family, and the honour they must uphold, has been ingrained in them since birth, and _this_ was not honourable.

She had returned to the Slytherin Common Room alone, and described all the sordid details to her sister, who had agreed vehemently that they should act before things went too far.

Bellatrix didn't tell Narcissa what she was planning. Instead, she wrote a note to Andromeda to leave by her bed.

 _Meet me by the portrait of the dog near the Potions classroom, 11pm tonight. -Bella_

It was in the deepest parts of the dungeons, lit by a far away torch and the chandelier above, when it was lit. The anticipation and excitement sparked a hunger inside the young witch, and she smiled.

"It'll be sorted, don't worry," she told Narcissa.

Bellatrix and Narcissa waited in the shadows as Andromeda cautiously approached. She stood directly in front of the portrait, under the chandelier, and waited. Bellatrix stepped out, closely followed by Narcissa.

"What's this about, Bella? Why couldn't we meet in the Common Room? You know, where it isn't against school rules," the third year questioned, her dark hair falling out from behind her ears as she shook her head.

"Because I have to talk to you about something… _sensitive_ ," Bellatrix replied, eyeing her sister carefully.

"Well go on, then," Andromeda replied, huffing in frustration.

"Who were you talking to yesterday in the library?" Bellatrix questioned.

"Ted Tonks," Andy replied, meeting her sister's stare.

"A Mudblood." Bellatrix spat the word like it's mere letters could sully her.

Andromeda said nothing.

"You don't even deny it," Bellatrix spat.

"What is there to deny? We're helping each other write our Transfiguration essays. He's top of the class. Nothing more," Andromeda shrugged.

"Nothing more? Do you not think of family honour? Just because you aren't marrying the boy doesn't mean our reputation goes untainted. You know what mother would say. It seems you need a reminder," Bellatrix said, and aimed her wand at the chandelier above Andromeda.

Suddenly, there wasn't a chandelier, but a shower of cold, brown earth that fell over Andromeda, sticking to her skin and fighting its way under her collar. She looked at Bellatrix in shock.

"If you consort with Mud, remember this: all you'll be left with is dirt."

Bellatrix stormed past her, Narcissa wide-eyed and in her shadow. The older girl allowed her shoulder to barge into her sister's, even as tears began to form in Andromeda's eyes. Bellatrix was comforted by the tears: it meant the girl still cared. When the pair were alone, Narcissa turned to Bellatrix.

"Do you not think that was a little far?" she asked Bellatrix.

"No."

* * *

V

Bellatrix had learned many lessons at a young age, but the one she remembered the most was about power. Her mother had power, oh yes, but that power extended only to her own household, her own children. Her decisions could, and were, overruled by a greater evil: their father. Bellatrix despised the man. She would never say it out loud, but he cracked his whip and they ran to enact his bidding. He was the quintessential man of the house, crushing his wife's will, and spirit, until there was only a shell of her left in his presence.

Bellatrix made herself a promise: that her happiness would not come at a price. She would be strong, and she would be powerful, and that would not be taken away.

She realised that this promise may not be easily kept, and she knew that practice was needed. She needed to know what it felt like to be in control, to dominate. She needed to recognise the light in her own eyes as someone bent to her will, completely at her mercy.

It just so happened that the Mudbloods at Hogwarts provided ample opportunity.

* * *

VI

At seventeen, Bellatrix's dark, luscious curls, her soft, pale skin and heavily lidded eyes made her centre of attention in many boys' brains. And she adored it. She never let any of them get close - of what use was love, after all? But she knew how to make them think they stood a chance. She knew how to use them.

She set her sights on Octavius Wilkes. A fellow sixth year Slytherin, he wasn't much to look at himself, but he had connections. His uncle was rumoured to be within the Dark Lord's inner circle, and he came from good stock. Bellatrix was certain he would make a good match, and with any luck, he'd be gullible enough to fall for her guiles.

She began by sitting next to him in classes, and he seemed to thrive on the unexpected attention. He would smile at her when she walked into the room, stare intently when she spoke. She was certain he was hers.

And then came along Ivy Brook. She seemed innocent enough, with her casual half-smile and unassuming presence. Her short blonde hair fell as flat as her tall, thin frame. A Ravenclaw, no less, and a Mudblood, and one that had never shown an interest in men before. Ivy either didn't see or didn't care for Bellatrix's interest in Octavius Wilkes. Slowly, the blonde began to worm her dirty way into the equation. When Bellatrix arrived for Arithmancy to find her sat beside Octavius, she'd thought that was the final straw. Then, she'd thought the girl ought to be taught a lesson.

But it was the following day, at dinner, when Bellatrix swore to make the girl pay.

"Wilkes, what's going on with you and the Mudblood?" Phyllida Lestrange asked, her dark eyes turning on the boy with a hint of bemusement. Bellatrix's interest was piqued, and she turned her head a little to see his reaction.

His face reddened and his muscles clenched. "If you mean Ivy, we're dating now," he said, his tone flat and hard.

Questions and accusations flew at him, but Bellatrix didn't hear them. Her attention had shifted to somewhere half-way down the Ravenclaw table, where a blonde-haired girl sat giggling with her friends.

A week later, and Bellatrix had discovered that the Mudblood went to the library for two hours every other evening, just before curfew. _Perfect._ This time, Bellatrix waited alone, knowing Narcissa would not approve of this one.

The clock read quarter to nine, meaning the girl would be heading down the silent corridor any time now. Bellatrix sunk into an alcove behind a suit of armour, and waited.

Footsteps.

The blonde was alone, as she often was, and Bellatrix smiled. This was too easy.

She raised her wand, and cast a silent incantation. Two invisible walls appeared around the girl, trapping her. As she walked headlong into the first, Bellatrix stepped out into the dim light.

The girl's eyes widened a little in fear as she drew her own wand against the Slytherin.

"What do you want?" she asked, and Bellatrix held back a laugh.

"You took something from me."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion danced in the blonde's eyes as she began to back away from Bellatrix. Bellatrix matched her steps, moving the walls closer and closer together.

"What makes you think you're worthy?" Bellatrix questioned.

"Worthy of what?"

The girl backed up and hit the invisible wall behind her, stopping still and scared, holding her wand higher in shaking fingers.

"I don't think you do think you're worthy, though, do you?" Bellatrix continued, ignoring the girl's words. "I think you know you aren't. You're just like all the other Mudbloods, aren't you? You take what you can get, work your way into the lap of luxury. You take and you take and you don't even see it. You shouldn't even be here."

A spark had lit within Bellatrix's heart, a dangerous spark. The power was glorious, to her, and addictive. The more she commanded, the more she wanted, and this girl was just _so easy._ The more she spoke, the more convinced she was of her own reasoning - the more steadfastly she held on to her convictions.

"What… what did I take?" Ivy asked in a broken voice, terrified of the answer.

"Something that was to be mine, that you claim as your own. He will never be yours, girl. You're filth," Bellatrix explained.

Understanding passed through the girl's eyes, and she calmed down a little. She knew what she was on trial for, now.

"Surely, that's his decision to make?" she asked, and the spark of a flame that flew from Bellatrix's wand told her that was the wrong answer. It hit her arm, scorching the skin instantaneously, leaving a marbled, bloody red behind.

Ivy winced.

"How dare you!" Bellatrix whispered harshly, not wanting to shout. "Expelliarmus!"

While the girl stood distracted by the pain, Bellatrix took her wand with exquisite precision, and lowered the walls she'd placed around her. She grinned, in love with the feeling coursing through her veins.

"I'm sorry," Ivy said, her tone hard. She didn't mean it, but it wouldn't have mattered to Bellatrix if she did.

It wouldn't have changed what she was going to do next. She cast a Knockback Jinx, sending Ivy flying back to land in a crumpled heap on the floor. Bellatrix walked over to stand above her, menacing.

"You think I'm evil because I was born to parents who were different to yours, but you're wrong. Evil isn't born, it's made," Ivy told her.

Her next set of spells came in quick bursts, as she became very aware of how exposed they were. The corridor was mainly disused, but that didn't mean they wouldn't be found. She placed a body-bind on the girl and levitated her into a secret room behind a tapestry. Placing a Silencing Charm on the makeshift curtain, she turned back to the Mudblood lay rigid on the hard, cold floor.

She lifted the Petrificus Totalus and whispered, "Rictusempra."

As the girl began to giggle, Bellatrix smiled. She probably thought she was getting away lightly.

Bellatrix was patient.

Half an hour later, the girl was still stricken with laughter, but her voice was strained as tears fell from her eyes. She clutched her stomach, unable to take much more. Bellatrix finally lifted the spell, content that she had learned her lesson now: one does not cross Bellatrix Black.

The girl was wracked with sobs, no energy left in her to stand. Bellatrix walked away, her head held high.

* * *

VII

When Bellatrix left school, the world felt like a stage. She had no need to earn, and so she could devote herself entirely to her desires. She consorted with the right crowds, her parents' crowds, and before a month was out, she was standing in a decadent dining room awaiting the Dark Lord, awaiting her Mark.

The Mark itself was power, but if she pleased her Master, she knew that she could do better.

The room was full of faces she knew, but did not see. She stood alone, at the foot of the long, mahogany table, and waited for the only face she was interested in seeing.

He made a dramatic entrance, of course, blasting the double doors wide open, startling his guests as one fell from its hinges. He walked in as if he was floating, his long cloak fluttering about his ankles in a wind that seemed to reach only him. His eyes settled on Bellatrix, ignoring all else. She withheld the urge to smile.

He stared at her, but didn't say a word, and Bellatrix knew that he was inside her head. She could feel the tendrils of his presence tickling the edges of her thoughts, turning them hazy. She relaxed against them, allowing them in, knowing she did not need to hide. She was already at his command, already under his spell. He could hand her dreams to her on a gilded platter if it suited him to.

"You are here for the Mark, dearest Bella," he began, dragging the words out as he considered her. "But I feel that may only be the beginning for you."

He drew his wand, as she held out her arm, and muttered the incantation. She watched the dark swirls unfurl just under the surface of her skin, dancing in the light, and she allowed herself to smile.

* * *

VIII

The Black family were concerned when Andromeda did not come down for breakfast. Mealtimes were very important to the family, particularly on Sundays, and each of them made an effort to be sat around the dining room table at the precise time the food would be served, if not a little earlier. At quarter past seven, Andromeda was more than running late.

"Narcissa, fetch your sister. This is most unlike her," Druella commented, her eyebrows knitting together a little.

Narcissa dutifully placed down her knife and fork and stood, leaving the room.

It was almost a whole ten minutes later when Narcissa returned, a look of confusion on her face.

"She's not there," she said, her mouth curling around the words as if she couldn't believe it herself. She held up an envelope and handed it to their mother. All the room was silent as she tore it open and read.

Bellatrix thought back to the night before. She'd tossed and turned all night, kept awake by the violent thrashings of the thunderstorm against her window. The wind had howled; the rain had lashed at windows and the old house had creaked. She'd heard noises she didn't quite understand; the squeak of what sounded like a door; the groan of an old stair bending under the weight of a footstep. She'd assumed they were the storm, or someone fetching a glass of water. The rumbles of the sky and the bright flashes of white light had distorted the sounds, anyway. She'd never imagined it was this.

When Druella finished reading the letter, she let it fall to the table as she stood, tightlipped and upright, no hint of feeling, and left the room.

Bellatrix stood and as her father picked the letter up to read it himself, Bellatrix moved to stand behind him and read.

She was gone. In _love_ with a Muggleborn, Andromeda claimed. So she was gone.

"Father, allow me to seek her out; allow me to go and bring my sister home," Bellatrix begged of him, knowing such an indiscretion could not go unpunished.

"No," he stated, his tone firm. "You only have one sister now, Bellatrix, and she is sat right here." The venom that dripped from his voice made Bellatrix cold. She knew there was no arguing, now. Her upper lip curled up but she swallowed the words on her tongue as she took her place at the table once more.

He was right. Andromeda had chosen her path, and it was exactly as Bellatrix had once told her it would be. She was not her sister anymore; there was no place for love beside honour. She quelled all notions of affection for Andromeda that she'd ever had, and in their place, she embraced hate.

* * *

IX

Those that stood at the Dark Lord's right hand were gathered together in the dining room Bellatrix had known since her youth. They were waiting upon his arrival. He had sent a messenger ahead, a Muggle boy, who was suspended upside down above the table. His face was an ugly shade of red, too much blood had rushed to his features, and he'd long since given up struggling.

Bellatrix, now twenty seven, was sat beside her husband. They did not speak. They rarely spoke, as a matter of fact, because talking was of little consequence. When Bellatrix settled on a course of action, he merely had to follow. He had learned that quickly, and Bellatrix was content with him.

The Dark Lord swept into the room and looked at no one, circling the table to take the spare seat opposite Bellatrix. He would usually sit at the head of the table, but no one questioned his choice. He pointed his wand at the boy.

"Bellatrix, for all of your loyalty, you have very problematic relatives," he told her, waiting for her reply.

"They are relatives no longer, my Lord," she responded.

"Of course not," he replied. "But maybe it's in the Black blood."

If anyone else had insulted her family in such away, she would have raised her wand immediately, but this was her Lord and Master. She knew what he was referring to. Her cousin, Sirius Black, was disowned not too long ago, and word was spreading. Andromeda and Sirius were giving them a bad reputation.

"I assure you, my Lord, that my blood is free of impurities. I will always serve you," Bellatrix replied, her voice quieter that she would have liked.

"This boy," he gestured to the figure hanging above them, and Bellatrix allowed herself to look at him. His skin was soft; his limbs gangly and awkward. He could have been no older than eight. "He's a Muggle. Does he deserve to live?"

Voldemort's eyes bored into Bellatrix and she met his gaze. There was a small part of her mind that argued, _but he's just a child_ , and she squashed it. She ignored it; she didn't want to hear that. She listened to her better judgement, the one that spoke of honour, of family, of power.

"No."

"Then draw your wand."

Bellatrix did as she was asked, holding her wand up to point it at the boy. When no more instructions came, she knew what she must do. She focused on her hate, on all the memories she had that had lead her to this moment. Andromeda. Sirius. Ivy Brook. Mud. She let the bile build up at the back of her mouth.

"Crucio," she breathed, and when the boy began to writhe in agony, screaming out, she allowed herself to enjoy it. He was entirely hers, now, and he could not fight her. He was at her mercy, but she had no mercy to spare.

"Kill him," the Dark Lord bid her.

And she did. His body dropped, head first, to land in a heap on the table, empty eyes looking straight through her. A trickle of blood made its way across the smooth tabletop from the base of his skull. The Dark Lord smiled.

* * *

X

The Dark Lord was missing. He didn't like to broadcast his whereabouts, but there was usually someone who knew where he was. That evening, no one knew.

Bellatrix was in her living room, in the house she shared with her husband, and she was anxious. Her husband was there, too, pacing the room, while his brother and Barty Crouch Jr stood silent, brooding.

"He has to be somewhere," Rodolphus exclaimed, frustration getting the better of him.

Bellatrix was deep in thought, but suddenly, inspiration struck.

"The prophecy," she said, looking for recognition in the eyes of her companions.

"What about it?" Barty asked, curious.

"We need to find them. The Potters or the Longbottoms. They'll know where he is, I'm sure of it," Bellatrix explained. The Dark Lord had been obsessed with this prophecy, with quelling it and proving it wrong. If he'd gone anywhere unattended, it would because of it.

-o0o-

They were in a dark street, near where the Longbottoms were seen last, looking at the houses, trying to find them. They'd narrowed it down to four houses, knowing that one of them belonged to the family.

Bellatrix stood and looked between them all: the blue door and shaped hedges of one - too eye-catching; the darkness and closed curtains of another - too peaceful; the cat sat mewing at the door to the third - too permanent for a family in hiding.

"That one," she said, pointing at the most unassuming house, with a single light on in an upstairs room.

They approached quickly and quietly, breaking through the magical defences in a matter of moments. The couple, however, clearly alerted to the intrusion, fell right into their waiting arms. They came outside to see what the commotion about, and Bellatrix was able to disarm them before they'd even see her. The four of them were on the couple in an instant, like they were a pair of cherries, ripe for the picking.

They took them to a room they knew well, an old abandoned mill. After casting the right defences and charms around the long room, Bellatrix turned to the couple.

"Where is he?" she asked, holding her wand out dangerously.

Frank looked at his wife, fear in his eyes. Bellatrix loved the look of fear.

"We… we don't know who you mean," he said, warily watching Bellatrix.

"Liar!" she shouted, aiming her wand at his wife in a silent curse.

She'd grown used to their screams now, desensitized, but she was fascinated by the glorious shapes the body could contort itself into when wracked with pain. She held it for only a few seconds, a warning of what was to come.

"The Dark Lord wanted you. I'll ask a simple question: did he find you?" Barty piped in, direct, dangerous.

"No," Frank responded, appearing incredulous.

"Then. Where. Is. He?" Bellatrix asked, taking a step towards him with each word.

"We don't know," he said, tears forming in his eyes as if he knew what would come next. He tried to stand, but Rodolphus easily knocked him back to the floor as Bellatrix aimed another curse at Alice.

The woman seemed fragile, dainty. It disappointed Bellatrix: it was a sign she would not last long.

But Bellatrix was convinced that the blood traitor's tears were an act, that he knew something but didn't want to say. The way his eyes danced over to his wife carried meaning, a meaning that Bellatrix was desperate to understand.

"They aren't telling the truth," Bellatrix noted, voice flat. Rodolphus nodded, and no one else said a word. No one disagreed.

"Do you enjoy watching your wife suffer? Is that why you won't tell us?" Bellatrix questioned.

"No, we don't know anything, I've told you," he said, desperation seeping into his words.

Bellatrix felt the hatred rise up within her, paired with the fear for the safety of her master. The only thing standing in her way was this couple.

"Liar!" she screamed, hitting Alice Longbottom with a Crucio more powerful than her last. The screams were louder, coarser, and for the first time that evening, Bellatrix listened, she listened, and she smiled, because this woman deserved it, and it was a glorious, beautiful sound. Her bones began to break, the satisfying snaps and crunches echoing in the far corners of the old weaving room. Bellatrix did not relent until the woman's mangled form looked close to death.

She left the woman wracked with sobs and still for a few moments, watching her with fascination, until she began to mend the broken bones, one by one, so that she could continue.

She turned back to Frank.

"Perhaps your wife might be more responsive, when you are the one in danger."

"No!" Alice called out, but Bellatrix didn't hear. Her comrades began to join in, enticed by watching her, and Rabastan aimed the curse this time.

The cycle was seemingly never-ending. They would ask a question, and they would not receive an answer, and so punishment would follow. When the bodies were too broken, in too many pieces to take much more, they would fix them back up so they could begin again.

Some time later, the answers stopped coming. Bellatrix briefly wondered if they were too broken, but she let that thought slip away. She was consumed by a fire within her, an excitement brought on by the power she commanded. No one stopped. The curses flew with more frequency and a greater intensity.

They did not hear the Aurors arrive.

Bellatrix was somewhere else, lost in a dream that was someone else's nightmare. She lost all focus until her wand flew from her hand, and a Binding Spell wrapped around her, holding her still as she fell to the floor.

Then, there was only one sentence she heard, only one thing she was able to concentrate on. It was the one she'd most feared, but the one she felt she knew was coming. It left her broken to know that she had failed.

"Lord Voldemort is defeated."

* * *

 **AN: So, this story got a little carried away with itself. I knew I needed these ten scenes, but each of the scenes got longer, and I knew I needed a lot of detail in some of them. Please let me know your thoughts!**

 **AN2: I was trying to write the whole idea, that's quoted by Ivy in this story, of "Evil isn't born, it's made," but I'm actually not sure how well I managed this. The idea was that Bellatrix was contorted through her mother's lack of love, the extreme beliefs and her fascination with being the best and most powerful. It just so happened that the biggest opportunity she got for this was down the route of evil.**

 **Also, disclaimer: Just because we don't see any repercussions after Scenes Four, Five and Six doesn't mean they weren't there. I know this behaviour would not be acceptable at Hogwarts, but I didn't want to make this story unnecessarily longer with her punishments when they weren't vital to the plot.**


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